by Joy Wodhams
It was possible that he was telling the truth. No doubt something was wrong with one of the machines, he knew she could easily check that part of his alibi. But his apartment was only ten minutes from Englands. It wouldn't be difficult for him to disappear for an hour or so, under pretext of working in his office. She was sure he had planned to meet Sue there.
It was none of her business, she drilled herself, and now Sue was leaving Englands she couldn't even argue that he was behaving indiscreetly. But all evening she tortured herself with pictures of them together.
When he came home at about nine thirty she asked no questions and kept up the pretence of a loving relationship in front of her mother and Mrs Priddy, but as soon as she could she pleaded a headache and went to bed. When Rod came upstairs she feigned sleep. She heard him open the door quietly, heard him in the bathroom, and then the creak of the bed in the dressing room.
As the days passed she managed somehow to prevent any further outbreaks of hostility between them, maintaining a cool politeness with the minimum of conversation when they were alone, a show of affection when others were there. Each day at Englands brought new projects, new problems to discuss and sometimes these generated an interest and enthusiasm in them both that brought a temporary warmth to their relationship, but it never lasted beyond the discussion. And at the end of the day they went to their separate beds and she lay awake and remembered how he had held her in his arms and made love to her throughout the night.
But she had been right. Madeira had been merely an interlude. Rod was a sensual passionate man and she had been there. Not only there, but very much available. But he didn't need her now. He had Sue and on the evenings when he was late home or on his trips to other companies she knew that he was with her.
One Saturday morning Gabriella answered the doorbell to find Jamie Wright standing in the porch. In baggy cords, a Fair Isle sweater and with his sandy hair hidden under a grey tweed hat he looked very different from the inebriated morning suit clad figure she had last seen at her wedding and for a moment she stared at him without recognition.
He grinned. “Who's this, she's thinking? What is he selling?”
“Jamie! Sorry, I hardly recognised you! But come in, how nice to see you. And what a pity you've missed Rod. He's in Munich for a trade fair. He's not due back until tomorrow night.”
“Ah well, not to worry. I was coming this way in any case. On my way up to Scotland. Thought I might scrounge some lunch – or take you out somewhere if the cupboard's bare.”
“The cupboard is never bare in this house, Jamie. Mrs Priddy always cooks masses.” She linked her arm through his and led him down the hall. “Do you like casseroled pork? Come and meet my mother, she'll be so pleased to see you again.”
As they ate and talked she began to see why he and Rod were such good friends. He was a likeable man with a sensible, down to earth approach allied to a droll sense of humour.
He was going to Scotland to shoot, he told them. “The estate agency business is about as buoyant as a beached whale at the moment so I thought I'd play hookey for a week or two. And as I'm just as likely to shoot a ghillie as a grouse, I decided on the northernmost reaches of Scotland where my reputation as the Western World's worst marksman can't have preceded me!”
Gabriella laughed. “I'm sure you're not that bad. Anyway, you look the part.”
“Those who can, do. Those who cant, dress up to look the part. Ah well, at least I enjoy myself and even if I don't bag anything it'll be more rewarding than trying to sell property.”
“Is it really that bad in London?”
“Dreadful. But then, it's no better anywhere else.”
“We sold our little house quite quickly,” said Mrs Stevens.
“Then you were lucky.”
“Rod's holding on to his apartment until a new company moves here in the Autumn.”
“He's wise. Rod's apartment has a definite upmarket appeal. He should find quite an interest amongst their executive staff.”
After lunch he sat back, hands on stomach, and groaned. “My compliments to the cook but I've eaten so much I don't think I can drive!”
“Come and walk it off round the garden,” suggested Gabriella.
“This place is very beautiful,” he said as they strolled around. “Rod told me you used to live here.”
“Yes, from when I was a baby until about eight years ago. I love it very much.”
“I can see why.” He fell silent for a while and then, with an air of embarrassment, he said, “Gabriella, at the wedding – I'm afraid I rather put my foot in it, didn't I?”
“What do you mean?”
“Afraid I don't alweays watch what I'm drinking at these do's, and I got a bit silly, didn't I?”
“Kissing me, you mean? Don't worry, Jamie, I didn't mind at all.”
“No, not that. Thought Rod would have told you, you see. Not that I don't understand his not mentioning her after all he'd been through.”
“You mean Caroline?”
“Herself. The lovely Caroline.”
“Rod hasn't really told me much about her,” she said carefully.
“Not surprised. He's a loyal sort of bloke, doesn't like to run people down – although why he should have any scruples about Caroline after the way she ditched him God only knows.”
“Ditched him?”
“For his boss, no less. But I reckon old Turvill got what he deserved. From what I hear she's spending his money as if tomorrow is a dirty word.”
Gabriella turned to face him. “Jamie, I'm completely bewildered. Did you say Turvill? Jeremy Turvill?”
“That's right. Don't tell me you've met him?”
“Jamie, will you tell me the whole story?”
“Well, if Rod hasn't said anything - “
“Please, Jamie.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “There's not a lot to tell, really. They met when Rod was about twenty six and he fell pretty heavily for her. She was – is – a beautiful woman. I don't know if she ever really loved him but she recognised that he was going places. She was very ambitious for him, always pushing him to get on, get promotion – you know the sort of thing. He was working for Minerva Engineering at the time and most of the social life of the company revolved around Caroline. Turvill had got rid of his wife a year or two before, so Caroline was very much the Queen Bee, and did she love it! A new dress for every function, jewellery – it's a wonder Rod didn't go bankrupt!”
No wonder he got so angry when I asked Mr Brewster for £7000, Gabriella thought ruefully.
“Anyway, the time came when Rod decided he wanted to get out of Minerva and go it alone, start his own business. Somehow he'd managed to keep some savings out of Caroline's clutches and with the house as security he hoped to borrow enough to get started. Of course, that didn't suit Caroline at all. No more fancy clothes, no more trips four times a week to the hairdresser. She might even, Heaven forbid, have to take a job! So she began to cast her big blue eyes around and who should they light upon but Jeremy Turvill! You've never seen anyone file for divorce so quickly. And of course when it came to dividing up the assets she had to have half the house, even though Turvill had a ten bedroomed mansion and more money to spend on her than even she could use up.”
“So Rod couldn't start his business.”
“That's right.”
“And that's when he came to Englands?”
“Right again.”
“Thank you for telling me, Jamie. I appreciate it.”
“He was crazy about Caroline. I think he would have had her back right up to the day she married Turvill.” Jamie looked at her, his round cheerful face sober. “He's a good chap, Gabriella. I'd hate to see him hurt again. Look after him.”
She understood now Rod's reluctance to discuss Caroline with her. It had been a long and painful episode and her own comments must have rubbed salt into the wound. She wished she could ask Jamie more. She would have liked to delve into Rod's past with this man who p
erhaps knew him better than most. But she knew any further questions would only embarrass him.
“I'll try,” she said.
When Rod returned she greeted him with a warmth that was not entirely assumed and that brought a glimmer of surprise to his eyes. Several times during the Sunday evening she caught him looking at her.
They talked about Jamie. Rod was disappointed to have missed him. “He's a good chap,” he said, echoing Jamie's own words. In front of the others Gabriella could not mention Caroline but she had made up her mind to talk to Rod when they were alone. He deserved an apology.
Before ten o'clock he was yawning and rubbing his eyes. “Sorry. It's been a hectic few days. I think I'll say goodnight.” He bent to kiss Mrs Stevens' cheek.
“Goodnight, Rod dear,” she said. “Why don't you go too, Gabriella? We can manage here.”
“I'll just clear the table for Mrs Priddy,” she said, anxious suddenly to postpone the moment when she would have to tell Rod she had misjudged him. She filled a tray and carried it to the kitchen, then stacked the dishwasher and wiped the table and counter tops. After putting away a few bowls and packages she looked around the big square immaculately clean and tidy kitchen with its oak dresser and painted pine cupboards. There was nothing more she could do. She would have to go up.
Rod was in the shower. While she waited she undressed and put on her silk nightdress, then sat at the dressing table and brushed her hair until it stood out around her small face like a flossy cloud. She thought she looked thinner, but that wasn't possible, not with Mrs Priddy's cooking. She wondered if Rod would come into her room. Sometimes when there was anything of importance to discuss he would do so, and tonight she hoped he might. Somehow she felt it would be easier to make her apology on her own ground. But tonight he went straight through to the dressing room.
She waited a few minutes and then tapped lightly on his door and opened it. He was already in bed, sitting up with a file of papers spread out on the duvet in front of him. In the narrow single bed he looked very large. His upper body was bare and she saw that his powerful shoulders, chest and arms were still deeply tanned. An intimate image of his body as she had seen it in Madeira suddenly returned to her, coppery brown all over but a paler area which his swim trunks had covered, and the memory brought treacherous colour flooding to her cheeks.
He smiled at her, one eyebrow raised. “Do come in,” he drawled. “Is this a formal visit?” He swept the papers together and deposited them on the floor. “Come and sit down,” he said, patting the bed beside him.
With the only chair in the small room draped with his clothes she had no option but to accept his invitation. She perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, hands clutched together in her lap.
“When Jamie was here we talked about – about Caroline,” she began.
“Really? How interesting for you both.” Rod leaned back against the pillows and gazed narrowly at her. His eyes had that shuttered look.
She looked away, down at her white knuckles, and made a conscious effort to relax her tight grip. “He told me the truth about your marriage.”
“The truth? As opposed to what, Gabriella? There's only ever been one truth about my marriage. Anything else was just a figment of your rather peculiar imagination.”
He was making it difficult for her. Surely he could see that she was sorry, that she wanted to make amends.
He stretched out a finger, slid it lazily under the narrow strap of her nightdress. “Very pretty,” he said, letting the strap slip down her shoulder. “You didn't answer my question, Gabriella.”
Her mouth dried. “Wh – what question?”
“Is this a formal visit?” He turned his attention to the other strap.
Oh God! He thought she was here because she wanted him to make love to her “I came to – to -”
“To what?” he murmured, but as she opened her mouth to try again he stopped it with his. He lifted her easily, pulling the nightdress away until it slid in a silken heap to the floor and as his hands roamed over the cool flesh of her body she made only the feeblest attempt to struggle. Did I really come to apologise, she wondered hazily, or was my mind deceiving me again? But there was no deception in her body. It knew what it wanted, clamoured for it. It wanted Rod, and the weeks they had slept apart since their honeymoon had only served to sharpen her desire.
****
She awoke in the half light of dawn, aware that Rod still slept beside her. She raised herself on one elbow and gazed at him. Asleep he looked younger, his hair tousled, thick fans of eyelashes resting on his cheeks and hiding the dark eyes that could glitter with anger. His mouth was curved to a half smile and she wanted to touch her tongue to that full lower lip. Her eyes traced a slow path across the muscular planes of his body, down the flat stomach and the long sprawled limbs.
There had been a roughness to his lovemaking last night, almost as if he wanted to punish her. And something in her had responded, as if she wanted to be punished. She wondered how things would be between them when he woke. Would they have taken a step forward? She thought it was far more likely that they would return to the distant politeness that seemed all they could give each other. It was as if their lovemaking was something quite separate and however passionate it might be it could have no lasting influence on their relations.
Carefully she began to inch her legs from beneath his. She was almost free when he awoke. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist.
“Going somewhere?” His eyes gleamed in the dawn light. She tried to read their expression, hoping for something … what? She didn't know but as his warm hand moved from her arm to her breast her heart leapt. And then his hard weight was upon her and her hands, clenched in the dark curling hair at his neck, were pulling his head down to hers.
Driving to Englands later they kept up a light conversation. Did she imagine it or was there a degree of extra warmth in his manner? It was nothing he said – his talk was all concerned with the Company – but she couldn't help feeling that something of the intimacy of the previous night still remained and she felt good, with a lightening of her spirits that was almost optimism.
The perfect July day echoed her mood. Already a heat haze shimmered above the road and drivers were winding down windows, letting the sunny sounds of early morning radio drift from car to car. The town had a holiday air, girls trotting along in bright dresses and light sandals, several of the men with their jackets slung over one shoulder. The good weather had brought with it an air of cheerful expectancy.
“I've been thinking about the canteen,” said Rod. “It would be nice to make some improvements if we can afford it.”
“It is pretty grim,” she agreed, “but we're sailing so close to the wind at the moment I don't see how we can give it priority. I was working out some figures on Friday. Productivity's already up twenty per cent but the bank repayments will swallow any extra income we make.”
“Pity. The staff would appreciate it and I think the better we can make their working conditions the more we'll get in return.”
“I agree with you. Maybe we can make some cosmetic improvements that wouldn't cost too much. Redecorate, put some curtains up, a few plants.”
“A couple of thousand? Could we manage that?”
“Possibly.”
“There may be ways – My God, you idiot!” He jammed on his brakes and flashed his lights as the car in front turned without signalling. “I think some of the day shift might like to earn some overtime doing the painting. It would be a lot cheaper than hiring contractors.”
Gabriella was warming to the idea. “The canteen's much larger than we actually need. Would it cost a lot to partition off the end that overlooks the river and turn it into a rest room? We've still got the unit seating that was in the General Office when it was open plan. It would be nice to give people somewhere to relax and chat during their breaks.”
He glanced at her. “That's a marvellous idea. Well, you've obviously got an eye for these things,
Gabriella. Let's take a look when we get in.”
She felt disproportionately pleased by his praise, like a child commended by its teacher, and wondered why.
But when they reached the office they found Gabriella's mother had been phoning them since they left home.
“It's Margaret,” she said when Gabriella called her back. “Her daughter's ill. The hotel where she works in Zurich caught fire and she's been hurt.”
“Oh no! Badly?”
“No burns, thank goodness, but some of the timbers collapsed on her. She's unconscious and she's got a broken leg and some cracked ribs. Margaret's beside herself, she wants to go to her.”
“Of course. Just a minute, Mum.”Gabriella turned to Rod. “Mrs Priddy's daughter's been badly hurt in Zurich. What can we do to help?”
“Let me speak to her” He took the phone. “Hello, Helen. Can you put Margaret on? … Margaret, I'm sorry to hear about your daughter. What's the situation?” He listened. “All right, phone the hospital and say you're on your way. While you're packing a few things I'll call Birmingham Airport and get you on the next scheduled flight – No, don't worry about the cost. You've got a passport? How soon can you be ready? - Right, I'll send a driver to take you to the airport. Would you like me to arrange for someone to go with you to Switzerland? - No? All right, if you think you can manage. I'll book you into a hotel near the hospital as well, and we'll arrange for a car to collect you from Zurich Airport.”
His voice grew gentler. “Now, Margaret, please don't worry too much. I know that hospital, it's absolutely first class. Your daughter – Alison, isn't it? - will be safe in their hands. Yes, stay out there as long as you need to – I told you, forget the expense, we'll look after that – Yes, call us when you've seen her and if there's anything else at all we can do, don't hesitate.”
When he had replaced the phone Gabriella touched his hand impulsively. “Thank you, Rod.”
He raised an eyebrow. “For what?”
“You're doing more than you need to, more than she'd expect you to. I'm sure she appreciates it and I do too.”